Scent
by Midnyte Wolf
Summary: When nothing else is certain, Soren finds Ike's scent comforting. Very light hints of IkexSoren.


**Disclaimer: **Don't own this fandom. If I did, Soren and Ike would have gotten it on. Many times.

**Notes: **So this started out as something… but then got away from me a couple of points. So I had to bring it back and bring it back again. I have no idea how it turned out. But I did learn something about myself through all this: Staying on track is not my strong suit.

I did this for a fill over at the FE Kink Meme, but… it's lacking in sexiness. For shame. My first thought was to make it sexy but this is what happened instead. I'm not sure if I'm proud or ashamed of myself.

* * *

><p>The earliest event Soren could recall was dodging backwards and losing his footing on a muddy river bank, then tumbling into the frigid water below. He felt his shoulder break a thin top layer of ice before he was submerged. The water was a lot deeper than it had looked from above. Considering its size and location, it was most likely used as irrigation for farmlands in the region of Daein they marched on.<p>

For a moment, Soren let fear seize him in the water as knives of numbness stabbed at his skin. It took him longer than it should to right himself and find the surface. He took several breaths of air and saw the figure of his attacker waiting up the bank, unsure if he should pursue him into the water where both of them would be at a disadvantage. The heavily armored warrior was probably wishing he was an archer at this moment.

Soren swam the few short steps to where he felt mud under his feet, then made his way a little further up the bank. Even if he managed to come within range of the warrior, Soren was vulnerable. Sometime during the fall, he had lost his grip on his spellbook. It would probably wash up downstream somewhere later in the evening, he guessed.

Looking up, Soren heard a dangerous yell and saw the warrior turn away to parry an oncoming attack from behind. Even if he had been concussed or disoriented, Soren knew he'd still recognize that voice from anywhere in Tellius. Ike had come to his rescue and managed to down the enemy warrior.

Perhaps it was a little selfish of Soren to always place himself close to Ike's route. Certainly there were better areas for his skills when he planned their tactics, but he always felt needed at Ike's side. There were times when he desired to be there to protect him or cover for his carelessness. And then there were times like this when Soren completely embarrassed himself and all he stood for.

He allowed Ike to help him up the bank, feeling like his pride was damaged more than anything when he stood up covered in mud and ice, soaked through to the bone.

"Are you all right?" Ike asked, holding him steady.

Soren didn't brush him off like he wanted, but he still felt rather irritable and sore. The only response that came to mind was a grumbled, "Don't tell anyone that this happened, Ike."

"I won't," Ike promised, but he didn't sound amused like Soren figured he would. "Come on, let's get you back. Take off some of those wet robes."

Soren knew that he'd sooner freeze to death with his wet clothes on than he would without them. But he would rather have been cleaved in half by that warrior's battle axe than approach the rendezvous camp wearing absolutely nothing. So he kept as much on that he could, but even removing his cloak made him feel several pounds lighter.

"Give them to me," Ike instructed.

After Soren gave his wet and muddy clothes to Ike, left feeling very small and vulnerable in the harsh Daein cold, he watched Ike unfasten his cloak and swing it ungracefully around his own shoulders.

"Here, use this," Ike told him when he noticed his blank stare. "It'll help keep you warm until we get back."

It wasn't much, but it would have to do. Soren didn't want to admit that he was happy with the oversized red cloak. With only a little principle hesitation, he grasped the ends and pulled it close, wrapping it tightly around himself. It engulfed him and trailed a little on the ground considering how much shorter and smaller he was in comparison.

"Thank you," he said quietly. It was a simple act of kindness but Soren felt it go straight to his heart. It may have been nothing to Ike but it meant a lot to him as they walked back together.

The battle was far from over, but Soren hardly cared. It was difficult to when Ike was so close to his side, escorting him back to camp to make sure no other enemies attacked without a means to defend himself. He'd also loaned him his cloak to keep warm. It worked well unless the wind blew, but that didn't matter. Soren enjoyed the weight of it, the feel of it in his hands, how high it came up to cover the blue tint to his lips. He tipped his head down a little and buried his nose in the fabric, inhaling deeply. It smelled a lot like the earth but also a hint of Ike.

It started to snow before they made it back. Ike slipped his arm around Soren's shoulders and idly rubbed him for warmth. It was the last thing Soren remembered.

* * *

><p>He woke up later and noticed he wasn't in his own tent, or the wounded soldier ward. After a moment of taking in his surroundings, he realized it was Ike's tent. Soren knew by the haphazard pile of blue armor he recognized in one of the corners, the worn muddy boots, the torn and flattened maps and the array of swords laid out near the glowing lantern. A sliver of light through the tent flaps told Soren it was still daylight outside but the material of the tent was thick to withstand the snow and the cold. A light source was still needed.<p>

He tried to sit up and was met with a bit of draped resistance. Along with the blanket from Ike's bedding, his cloak was resting on top if it was well for the added warmth. Soren reached for it and pulled it up higher than the blanket and gently hugged it to his face. It smelled even more of Ike now that it was back with the rest of his belongings. Distantly Soren wondered what else smelled of Ike. His eyes scanned the tent floor, and again he noticed the pile of old cloth armor that needed to be washed.

Usually there was one day out of the week when armor was taken to be washed in the nearest stream to get rid of the dirt and the mud and the blood. Mist would sometimes take care of it for Ike since he would conveniently slip away and attend to "official business" with Soren instead. Soren eased the blankets back and noticed, for the first time, that he was completely nude. The open air in the tent hit him like a wave of frost. Quickly he got up and wrapped the cloak around himself as he padded across the tent to the pile of armor. He knelt to have a look through the messy heap. Ike never kept his room tidy back at the mercenary base; why should his tent be any different?

Soren ended up folding some of the garments for him and setting them aside in proper stacks. However, he soon came across an old blue tunic of Ike's that he hadn't seen him wear in a while. It used to be one of his favorites back at the base when he was training. Perhaps there were memories attached to it now, or perhaps it no longer fit or perhaps it wasn't tough enough to take a hit in battle. This was no longer training; this was war. But it still felt soft and Soren could remember Ike wearing it very vividly. He had been a little younger then, a little smaller in the chest and shoulders. Gently Soren trailed his fingers over the trim and the buttons then laid it aside.

He managed to dig out the rest of the outfit as he remembered it. Ike's scent was strong on the tough fabric. Soren held the tunic close to his heart and simply breathed it in as a beast might. It made him a little sick to liken himself with them in that way but something about Ike's scent called to a deeper part of himself and made him feel safe. Slowly, during that time, Ike's cloak was slipping down his shoulders, exposing his pale back. It was still cold.

Without thinking, Soren began to slip the tunic on instead of trying to keep the cloak. The fit was far too large but Soren didn't mind. He decided to finish the set, leaving all the straps and fastenings undone. There wasn't any need. He just wanted to be swathed in that scent and to feel the gentle hang, imagining it was Ike's hold. It was also fascinating how different Ike's armor looked and felt compared to his own.

It was then he began to wonder where his own robes had gotten to. Soren turned around and scanned the tent again. Just as he suspected, however, his clothing was nowhere. Perhaps they were still drying; he wasn't sure. But it didn't matter. He felt warm and comforted sitting in Ike's clothes, even though in the back of his mind he knew it was ridiculous.

Perhaps he didn't fully understand how ridiculous until Ike showed up, throwing the tent flap aside and seeing him there, looking small and guilty. A rush of cold air and blinding light swept into the tent, making the flame in the lantern flicker.

"Ike!"

"What are you doing?" he asked, quickly stepping inside and closing the flap behind him.

"I…" Soren had no answer for him. He was blushing; he could feel it, so he immediately looked away and back down at the other neat piles of armor he had busied himself with. This was childish of him, and earlier he had been unprofessional and a little careless. How was he supposed to be seen as a well respected and capable staff officer now? He supposed it was best that no one else had seen him like this. Only Ike, but his opinion was the only one that mattered anyway.

In an attempt to redeem himself, and rationalize the situation, Soren straightened up and looked back at Ike with a well portioned lie.

"It was cold," he said, "and my robes weren't here."

"I see…" Ike replied, looking a little skeptical and confused. But he seemed to accept the lie after a moment of pondering then took a seat next to Soren on the ground. He picked up the cloak that had fallen off Soren and placed it around his shoulders again. Oddly enough, he didn't say anything about the old tunic Soren was wearing.

"You worried me, you know," he continued, leaving his arm draped around Soren's shoulder after replacing the cloak. "You fainted before we made it back. Rhys says it was probably a combination of you not eating and sleeping well in addition to the hypothermia. You should really take it easy. Your body can only take so much. And we need you safe. I need you safe. But you're making it difficult."

Soren listened patiently, but his response was already measured and immediately out once Ike had finished. "Just worry about yourself. That's all that concerns me."

"I can't do that," Ike said with a short, humorless laugh.

"I know, it's very annoying sometimes."

"Look at me, Soren."

Soren was a little taken aback with the sudden order and the change in tone, but he did as he was told and looked up into Ike's eyes. He stared back down at him for a moment then spoke again.

"Please don't die. Okay?"

How was he supposed to respond to that? Realistically, Soren knew there was no way he could promise such a thing, just as there was no way Ike could promise him that he'd return breathing as well. That truth scared Soren more than anything else – damn the war, the Black Knight, the sub-humans. Soren just had to keep himself close to Ike on the battlefield. He figured if he was close, maybe he could change it; maybe he could stop it, if it ever came to pass. But if it was really his time, Soren knew he'd be powerless. It was the most fearful and frustrating reality he'd ever faced, one he'd nearly come to tears over in the dead of night when he planned their strategy and the path looked bleak. Some nights, it kept him awake until dawn.

Ike seemed to notice his change of expression, the sudden hopelessness in his eyes before he looked away and down at the ground again. Soren didn't know what to say.

After a moment's pause, Soren felt Ike tighten his hold on his shoulders and gently guided him in closer. Too weary and confused to struggle or refuse on principle, Soren allowed himself to be pulled until he was tucked against Ike's side, against his chest. Ike's hand rested on the back of his head.

Once again, Soren was overcome with Ike's scent. It was all around him, and Soren wanted to leave this tent smelling the same way. He wanted to remember the scent for decades because it put him at ease. All of a sudden, his fears were gone and he sank completely into Ike's hold, placing a small hand against his chest, feeling his heart beat under his fingers. Sometimes it was hard for him to see the future when Ike was so close.

"Everything is going to be fine, Soren," Ike told him, resting his cheek against the top of his head.

"How do you know?" he challenged. Nothing was certain in war. If Ike thought there was, then he certainly wasn't accounting for all the variables.

"Because there's two of me, apparently," Ike replied with a smile in his voice. It took Soren a moment to realize he was referring to the old armor he was wearing. Again he felt a little embarrassed and pulled back to slap Ike's chest, looking displeased to hide his humiliation. It didn't have the desired effect however as Ike began to laugh, reaching out to hold his wrists to avoid getting hit again.

After they had settled down, Ike asked him to stay in his tent for the night, perhaps to make sure he got the rest he needed. Soren knew he should have said no if he wanted to retain any sort of professionalism. But he was weak, and Ike knew exactly how he was weak. Soren couldn't resist the pull of being next to Ike, to be wrapped in the blankets that smelled like his body.

That was the scent he fell asleep to that night.

And that was the scent he was determined to keep when he wandered off with Ike's old tunic to have for safe keeping in his own tent.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong>Way to be a creeper, Soren, lol. Thanks for reading!


End file.
